Smash: Part One
by Sombrero
Summary: (AU) Miyami Kinomiya is starting a new life in San Francisco with her cousin Tyson. Interrupting this exciting transition, however, is someone's daunting past. Whose and why? R&R!
1. Slaughter and Sacrifice

**Smash  
**

**_Part One_**: Whisper Secrets in My Ear

Disclaimer: © _Nelvana_: I do not share ownership to the rights of _Bakuten Shoot: Beyblade_. The songs featured in the following story have not been written by me or anyone I am acquainted with unless otherwise stated. If any of the situations resemble factual or fictional events currently in existence than it is merely by coincidence.

Warnings: _This story contains mature subject matter, reader discretion is advised_: coarse language, violence, homosexuality, sexual content and dark themes; also AU, OC, OOC, humor and adolescent romance

Author's Notes: I know it's taken me a while to piece together a few things but hopefully this time it's for real! Yes, ladies and gents, I'm **back**! Did you miss me? The story is basically something I thought up after viewing quite a few teenage drama-shows on TV as well as some things from my own life. In other words: look out because you are going on the ride of a lifetime. Tell me what you think!

R&R  
Enjoy!

* * *

♠  
Prologue: Slaughter and Sacrifice  
♠ 

Clouds hovered densely above the deserted urban quarter. It cast a daunting grey shadow over the usually bustling downtown area, a somber mist settling gravely between buildings and around dimly lit lampposts. Everyone had abandoned their midday shopping with the arrival of the unforeseen downpour.

There were the few homeless cowering in covered doorways or storefront awnings and the straggling consumers dashing from avenue to avenue with the hope of finding reasonable shelter.

Puddles expanded to the size of miniature lakes, dipping into the curb. The drains were gurgling, spitting out water and swallowing it again while the late April shower evolved into an ugly storm.

Church bells moaned, resonating through the empty district offering their melancholic symphony to the bleak surroundings.

_Where, oh where have you been my love?  
Where or where can you be?  
It's been so long, since the moon has gone  
__And, oh, what a wreck you've made me_

Crouched in the darkness, barely protected from the rain, he waited. Caressing the gun in his left hand he felt the shape of the trigger, smooth and exquisite. His index rested comfortably within the soft curve of metal.

He liked it there.

Listening acutely for clapping footsteps, he tested the gun against the brick wall, firing in unison with the bells' knell. _Ironic_, he thought considering the dolor the storm carried. It was the perfect day.

_Are you there over the ocean?  
__Are you there up in the sky?  
__Until the return of my love  
__This lullaby…_

Darting into the road, ignoring the bearing red light, a young adolescent escaped the confines of her third-floor apartment home. New white trainers quickly lost their colour as she raced through dirty roadside puddles. Her clothes clung to her undeveloped body, reminding her of the cold and wet. She wasn't wearing a jacket.

She ran up one street and down another, enjoying the brutal weather and the hard sound of bells tolling in the background. Slowly she neared her destination, excited for the hot chocolate and leftover birthday cake her best friend had promised her.

It wouldn't be long.

_My hope is on the horizon,  
__Every face, it's your eyes I can see  
__I plead, I pray through each night and day  
__Our embrace is only a dream_

Upon hearing the rapid pace, he leapt out from behind his cover, gun stretched at arms-length in front of his face. Through one eye he aimed. With the cool metal in his hand he felt an overbearing power. _Is this what God feels like_?

He didn't really care.

The target emerged into range and he fired. Kicking back, the gun vibrated warmly in his icy grip. Caught off guard, he let it fall to the ground. The gun volleyed and an unintentional shot was discharged.

The bells still chimed darkly, hiding the thunderous cracking of gunfire. Glancing around for witnesses he moved forward; cautiously, carefully, aware of everything surrounding him.

Blood spilt from the wound in the victim's head where the stray bullet had achieved an escape, landing near a drain and being forced through by the strong water—lost forever.

There was another injury, hardly an abrasion. The first shot had only grazed the victim's arm. He came closer, like a predator to its prey. And then he noticed; his face paled and his eyes widened, glazing over with fear, guilt and nervousness. He had made a mistake.

Already recognizing the lifeless heap, lying partway into the road, hair caught in the stream of rushing water. _Shit_. He turned the child over, lifting her onto the sidewalk. Crimson streaks smeared across the damp cement.

An innocent child, blanketed in rain and blood, was curled limply in his arms. He couldn't stay. Bile rose to his throat. He couldn't stay.

_And sure as days come from moments  
__Each hour becomes a life's time  
__When she'd left I'd only begun  
__This lullaby…_

♠  
_End Prologue_

* * *

Author's Notes: Have no fear, it's only the beginning here! I hope you read on to find out what's going to happen…or rather, what's going **_on_**. For those of you who know my previous work this is, in essence, a take from Dancing on the Live Man's Grave…just with a shorter title and a developed plotline.

©: The featured song is _This Lullaby_ by **Queens of the Stone Age** from their latest album Lullabies to Paralyze (RECOMMENDED).


	2. Under Covers

Author's Notes: So the story begins… (_Dun, dun, dun_)! After this chapter things will start moving at a normal pace. It's the character introductions that are going to kill us all. Don't worry, I'll try and stray a little from my normal amount of detail/jargon but, let me tell you, it's going to be a challenge.

R&R  
Enjoy!

* * *

♠  
Chapter One: Under Covers  
♠ 

Miyami Kinomiya took a deep breath, holding her ankle in her hand, leaning forward and bringing her leg above her head.

She stood alone at the center of a large room—bare of furniture and other simple ornaments. Wide glass windows stretched upwards from the floor, expanding over most of the far wall opposite the entrance. The space smelt of fresh paint and lemon spray and the pastel yellow colour added a needed tranquility. Sunlight poured in from the outside, bouncing off the glossy mahogany floors.

Miyami watched an invisible spot across the room, standing again on both feet. She stretched her arms towards the ceiling and arched backwards until her hands touched the red yoga mat beneath her.

The new house seemed lonely and detached, unlike her former home in Blackburn. Her mother had chosen it from a catalogue of estates, recently renovated and complete with furnishings. Nothing inside belonged to them; items of sentimental value still packed tightly within labeled moving boxes.

Both of her parents were still sleeping above her on the third floor and, though she was the youngest of four, she was the only sibling currently wandering the vast corridors of the miniature mansion. Her older brothers and sister were flying in the week after, finishing their schooling before they made the transition to America.

She had been an exception.

Completing an hour of yoga, she felt nimble and relaxed, prepared for the day's coming adventures. It had only been four days since the plane landed yet she was already hurrying into a regular adolescent routine of books and assignments.

It didn't concern her, never having been a nervous person, but the five o'clock-morning sessions worked away any doubts or unsettling thoughts.

Toweling off a thin coat of sweat she padded, barefoot, through the door and into the hallway. The grey sweatpants she wore were sticky and the tight white wife-beater was wet on her chest and back.

Unpleasant beeping rung shrilly and the house came suddenly alive at the dim memory of chaotic wardrobe-fishing and last minute kitchen free-for-alls.

_Today I changed  
__It's too late  
_'_Cause everyone stayed the same  
__I'm gone, so long  
__Break out, 'cause I'm better off on my own_

Miyami dashed into her room, ducking a torpedo of soaring men's footwear as her father staggered from the shared master bedroom; one sock slipping from the tip of his left foot while the other hung in his mouth.

He grunted an inaudible _good morning_ to Miyami while he stumbled towards the staircase, hopping unsteadily down the steps with his back against the cream coloured walls.

Closing her bedroom door behind her, she lunged over the unmade mattress, settled awkwardly at an angle on the floor. An open suitcase lay on its other side, articles spilling into the room in a messy fashion.

Hardly considering what she was pulling from the half-packed chaos, Miyami stripped out of her pajamas, simultaneously sliding into a pair of loose jeans.

_Today I changed  
__It's too late  
_'_Cause every town feels the same  
__I'm different and you're distant  
__Add it up and it makes no difference_

Her mother's actions had decided Miyami's hygienic fate for the oncoming day as she announced her reign of the bathroom. Tossing her daughter a toothbrush and toothpaste before she closed the door, the fair-faced woman sung some pre-school chores list to Miyami who listened through one ear.

Groaning and settling into a bold green tee-shirt she threw herself en route for the stairs and followed in her father's footsteps, jumping lightly to the second floor and tugging mismatched socks onto her feet.

_Unfair_, Miyami barked inwardly as she halted abruptly in front of their second and last working bathroom. She had narrowly escaped a collision, falling backwards onto her rear and glaring in frustration at the sounds of low humming.

_Everybody's talking 'bout blowing up the neighborhood  
__Everybody's gonna break it up today  
__Everybody's talking 'bout blowing up the neighborhood  
__Running just to get away!_

Hurtling over shoes and cluttered furniture, Miyami raced into the kitchen, proud for having survived the above two floors.

Though the disarray in that particular section of the new home was less than to be desired, it wasn't as tough to venture across; with only a few tables and chairs sitting in the hallway while their designated rooms were being painted.

"I hate moving," Miyami announced to herself, fixing a quick breakfast of _Silhouette®_ strawberry yogurt and microwave green tea. Breathing a sigh of relief, she relished in the blissful moments after the resident relay.

The moment evaporated as seven o'clock neared.

Standing, she hoisted her bag onto one shoulder and lifted her skateboard from the chair where she had left it the previous evening. She shrugged her narrow shoulders into a faded jean jacket.

"I'm leaving!" She called up the stairs just as her father emerged from the bathroom. He offered words of encouragement and restated the school's address, knowing she had forgotten without admitting it.

_Stuck in America  
__Stuck in America  
__I'm lost in America  
__Stuck in America_

Dropping the skateboard a foot away, Miyami jumped onto the worn-looking deck, her jean-cuffs pressed underneath the brown suede VANS she had purchased at the only American event she had been too. Warped Tour.

Tyson Kinomiya, her over-enthusiastic and vigorous cousin, had invited her to California the year following his family's relocation to the United States. It was a time of emotional innocence when neither Miyami nor Tyson understood the harsh realities of teen angst and hardcore punk-rock. The Pop-Punk saw them through their early adolescence and Miyami hardly forgot the bands she used to play loudly on her stereo.

Rummaging at a stiff and awkward angle through her sidebag, she searched for her metallic pink i-pod, given to her for her early-spring birthday.

_Today I changed  
__New town with the same old face  
__One way to shake this place  
__That I can't escape_

She rode past a long strip of sweet smelling bakeries and friendly delis, the storefront awnings not yet drawn and the tables within still holding the weight of chairs that belonged with them. Inside a majority of the homely shops she passed the lights were out, allowing vivid yellow sunlight to fill the spaces richly.

_I think I may enjoy living here_, Miyami mused, deeming the perpetual summer feel and the close-knit community she assumed dwelt in the square apartment buildings behind and above the main road of stores and restaurants.

Laying a set of chunky silver headphones over numerously-pierced ears, she fiddled with the gadget until she found a song that mimicked her current upbeat excitement.

_Everybody's talking 'bout blowing up the neighborhood  
__Everybody's gonna watch it burn today  
__Everybody's talking 'bout waking up the neighborhood  
__I'm still trying to escape_

The aroma of vanilla and baked goods lingered deliciously behind her as she rounded a soft corner, ignoring the sidewalk momentarily.

When she looked back up she found herself staring at a pair of frightened amber eyes, coming closer at a senseless pace.

Realizing the situation, she threw her weight to the left. One of the front wheels on her board skidded into a conveniently placed pebble, jamming between the wheel and the deck and sending the lightweight teenager hurling into someone's well-kept shrubbery.

Miyami inhaled a mouthful of waxy green leaves and instantly spat them onto the picturesque lawn. Stuck dizzily in a magazine-worthy garden bush wasn't her idea of the perfect start in a new country.

"Are you okay?" A husky voice asked from a safe distance. Miyami couldn't see who it was, not that it really mattered as she hadn't met anybody yet. "I am _so_ sorry," strong, muscular hands fastened themselves around her slim upper arms, giving her the extra heave to pluck her from the decorative greenery, now sporting a reasonably sized dent.

_Stuck in America  
__Stuck in America  
__I'm lost in America  
__Stuck in America_

Miyami brushed off her pinstripe jean jacket, pausing and then glancing up at the person she had collided into. Gasping, she disregarded the idea of showing him what little self-defense she knew.

He was a fair bit taller than her and gave off a very masculine feel. His hair was untidy and fell into his eyes and his skin was a sandy-olive tone. She could easily recognize he was of Asian background, likely Chinese; too often confused with someone sharing her Japanese roots.

"It's fine; only a little head trauma," She joked, trying to lighten the mood. _Maybe it isn't such a bad beginning after all_. Miyami believed that destiny was involved in everything and this time, destiny had done it right.

_Today…today…_

The young man laughed throatily and bent down to get her skateboard. She noticed his own was tucked under his arm, off of the ground where it could be hazardous.

"Not from around here, huh?" He said, eyeing her.

"That didn't take too long," Miyami snickered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

The Chinese boy leaned in and held out his hand.

"I'm Rei," Miyami took his hand, offering her name. He pressed his thumb against the thick square-ish silver ring she wore on her thumb, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "Cool,"

"What, my ring?"

"No, your style. We don't have one of you yet,"

Miyami stared, confused. Was she being stereotyped?

_Everybody's talking 'bout blowing up the neighborhood  
__Everybody's gonna break it up today  
__Everybody's talking 'bout blowing up the neighborhood  
__All I ever wanted was to get away_

"And that would be…?"

"Clumsy," Rei flashed a toothy lopsided grin.

_Oh!_ _He's talking about my skateboarding!_

"Well, if you hadn't crashed into me, I would have been a little more graceful," Miyami placed her hands firmly on her hips, rolling the skateboard back and forth beneath one foot. Her friendly new acquaintance absentmindedly ran his fingers through his ebony hair, the watch on his wrist presenting the time.

"**Shit**!" Miyami cried, unconcerned with the occupants of the surrounding residences. "I'm going to be late on my first day!"

"Where are you enrolled?" Rei asked quickly as Miyami readied to bolt.

"Westmoor,"

"Me too," He smiled wider. "Classes don't start for another hour, it's only seven fifteen."

"I kinda know that and after today I'm _never_ waking up this early but today I have to get to the office and organize myself or something like that."

"Ah, the ugly fate of the newbie; I remember those days." Rei didn't have a chance to reminisce as Miyami ran along the uptown road. He pursued, catching up in no time. "It's rude to leave in the middle of a conversation, eh."

"Sorry, but I'd really like to make a good first impression this time." Miyami panted, pushing robustly off of the ground and increasing her speed.

"I don't know, you given me a pretty good first impression,"

Rei winked.

Miyami stared briefly and then turned her gaze in time to see a long rectangular prison-like building appear. It towered on the corner of a busy intersection and had an unwelcoming aura. A sign stood in the grass reading 'Westmoor High School'.

"Welcome to Hell," Rei introduced her to the school, hopping off of his board and stepping up the cement staircase.

_Stuck in America  
__Stuck in America  
__Stuck in America  
__Stuck in America_

The flight of steps led to a set of twin metal doors which opened and revealed a regular and expected high school interior. Lockers lined the main corridor, classroom doors set between them after long stretches. The main office was at the immediate right and a woman in her late-sixties sat behind the reception desk. Her glasses rested on the bridge of her nose and made her eyes seem bigger than they were. She looked up at the sound of the front doors closing and smiled towards the duo.

"She's not as nice as she wants you to think," Rei warned, leading Miyami into the spacious area. There was a long leather bench-sofa along the wall and fake tree in the corner. The window was covered by a thin white blind and the grey carpet looked new.

"You must be Miyami Kinomiya?" The woman spoke in shaky breaths.

"Um…yes,"

Rei patted her on the shoulder and motioned that he would see her later.

The receptionist skimmed through a stack of mustard coloured folders, stopping at one that read Miyami's name in bold print. Her new school record.

_Get away! (All that shit that you put me through)  
Get away! (All that shit that you put me through)  
__Get away! (All that shit that you put me through)  
__Get away! (All that shit that you put me through)_

"Okay then," The woman pulled out a few forms, some of which had to be signed by a legal guardian. There was a class schedule in the thin pile and a few notices about early-year events. "This is your agenda," tittering hands offered Miyami a thick booklet filled with blank dated pages. "And this is your locker combination,"

"Thanks,"

"The vice-principal will speak to you when she arrives. Unfortunately she wasn't able to meet you now,"

"That's fine," Miyami began shifting her weight, eager to be rid of her bag and jacket. She played with the visor on her yellow and white _VAN DUTCH _baseball cap until the old woman allowed her to leave. As she made her way into the hall Rei jumped out from an obvious hiding place, scaring Miyami and making her let out a choked yelp.

She sent him an unimpressed glare laced with humor. _It's not so hard to make friends in America, I guess_.

_Today I changed_

♠  
_End Chapter One_

* * *

Author's Notes: There you have it! The beginning of the end! Please tell me what you think, I don't even mind if it's completely insulting (_though I sincerely hope it isn't_). 

©: The featured song is _Stuck in America_ by **Sugarcult** from their 2001 album Start Static.


	3. Fingerprints

Author's Notes: Well, you reviewed and I listened! Thank you for the encouragement, though I can tell some of you are terribly confused. Trust me; things _do_ come together soon enough. I know, it's such a jump from my former work (Dancing on the Live Man's Grave & My Christmas List…etc.) but it will all be worth it in the end. With that said, onward to the second chapter!

R&R  
Enjoy!

* * *

♠  
Chapter Two: Fingerprints  
♠ 

Westmoor High School **International** was a proud standing facility, recognized for its stellar academic achievements. It had produced many respected members of the workforce, now in charge of important corporate matters and jobs that involved bulky paychecks.

Adequately equipped, Westmoor's publicity often included their au courant faculty and cumbersome endorsements—received from various powerful and opulent backgrounds.

Enrollment was easy; it was the admittance where handfuls of hopeful candidates found themselves rejected. Previous grades and accomplishments were taken into account before a decision was made.

Westmoor, a competitive school, stood at the very top. It attained the annual number one position during a classification made of every educational institution in southern North America.

Miyami was accepted by a stroke of good fortune; owing to the exhilarating amount of enrollments made monthly.

And she was beginning to doubt if it had been a good thing…

Rei had guided Miyami on a halfhearted tour around Westmoor, showing her the places that she would need to find for the upcoming periods before lunch. Her favorite had been the boundless art room on the fifth floor, decorated with paint smudges and hardened clay.

It had been the only room without a teacher's desk and box of chalk where learning was inevitable.

Students loomed in empty classrooms, sitting on desktops or leaning against blackboards. Many of them wore similar attire; the boys in preppy striped polo-shirts with the collars raised—much like Miyami's—and sandals or Puma running shoes. A majority of girls exhibited massive hoop earrings and short Paris-Hilton skirts. They didn't give off the air of excellence which the school had been promoting in their thick pamphlets.

Rei didn't seem to mind the cropped tops and mid-thigh minis, flirting with a few of the passing senior cheerleaders on their way to the field for a seven-thirty practice.

"And this," He said concluding the short tour, "is the cafeteria; but it's hardly used. My friends and I usually eat outside."

"Sounds like fun," Miyami grinned, stretching her unburdened shoulders; now free of any sidebags or restricting jean jackets.

Rei had taught her the confusing trick behind opening and closing the school locks. It hadn't been easy since Miyami spent most of the lesson gawking instead of listening.

He wasn't her usual type; she preferred the less casual skater-boys that wore the long Dickies and band t-shirts, sporting chin rings and tattoos. Rei wasn't as edgy, dressed in a pair of khaki coloured pants the drooped below his torso. He, like the other boys Miyami had seen, wore his shirt collar rolled upward though he made the trend seem unique. Underneath the informal polo was a plain white cotton tee and on his feet were brown leather sandals.

_Preppy-chic_, Miyami decided, marking her own appearance.

They had a lot in common, both interested in anthropology and spiritual freedom. Even their choice in music and movies was akin. Though Rei drifted towards Coldplay and Savage Garden, he still found the work of The Transplants tasteful.

Around them the bustling grew, teenagers filing through different entrances; some smelling of cigarette smoke and others of another kind of aroma.

The cultural diversity was immense and Miyami was thankful. She enjoyed analyzing people, adapting to new environments with ease. But there was always a catch; she was uncomfortable in a mono-ethnic work area. There had to be multiplicity otherwise there was nothing to keep her attention peeked.

She heard an assortment of accents, none of which she was familiar.

"We're an international school," Rei clarified, seeing Miyami's delight in the atmosphere. He held her under his arm in a protectively, leading her away from the banter.

"_No_," Miyami responded sarcastically, "you only like to pretend."

Rei glanced from his watch to a plastic-rimmed clock above the main entrance; comparing the time.

"My friends should be here by now. I think it's time you got to meet them,"

Miyami prepared herself, eager to see what she was in for.

Her stomach fluttered delightedly as they wandered down a near-barren hallway. There was a sound of humming from an area tucked away in the back of the building.

"Is that…?"

"Oh God, not again," Rei moaned and quickened his pace. As they wandered through the narrow doorway, Miyami was taken aback by the expanse of the space. It was a neatly organize library with bookshelves on every wall and two or three tables with _Research Only _computers. Clearly refurbished and delicate looking, there were round cushioned armchairs for reading and a desk at the back to sign out books.

Distorting the proposed harmony of the space was a buzz of music hidden behind a tall wooden bookshelf that divided the area partway. A peach coloured table was surrounded by a group of simmering youths, all folded inwards and straining their ears to hear the tune that played.

One girl sat cross-legged atop the table, holding an MP3 discman, snapping her fingers and moving her upper body in time with the rhythm. She was cute-looking with fierce eyes and a heart-shaped face. Waves of almost-black hair fell past her waist freely, and her eyes were squeezed shut in a meager attempt to impersonate the vocals.

"…_Oh my God, we're back again…Brothers, Sisters, everybody sing_…!"

Rei broke up the cluster, jumping onto the table via an occupied chair and did a sliding circle. He imitated the dance performed in the music video and sang along with a little more accuracy.

The girl stood and took his awaiting hand, swerving into him and then twirling outwards. The thin chain and brown leather necklaces she wore billowed behind her as she swirled in sync with Rei.

"…_**Backstreet's back, alright**_!"

Laughter echoed as the teens threw their hands to the high ceiling and hooted, cheering their comrades on. Miyami stood momentarily, unsure whether she should join the crowd or linger in the background.

_I enjoy_, Miyami said to herself, her cheeks sore from perpetual smiling.

Fading, the song came to an end after a minute or so. Breathless and panting, Rei and the girl sat again, the girl collapsing into Rei's lap fraternally.

"Hey Miyami, you gonna stand their in admiration forever or are you going to join us?" Rei ushered lazily with his hand, his chest moving up and down strongly as he tried to regain his composure.

Shrugging with one shoulder, Miyami stepped forward and waved loosely, one hand tucked into the back pocket of her jeans.

"Guys," Rei said, "this is Miyami."

He started the introductions at the girl on his knee. "This is Amber Benson," the girl beamed at the sound of her name. She locked Miyami in an intense ochre stare, studying her in interest. Her complexion was dusky and untarnished and she hardly reached Miyami's height, half an inch shorter at most.

Miyami's attention tweaked to the burned out pair of sneakers Amber wore. Visibly loved and likely six or seven years old, the shoes were what Miyami would always associate Amber with; as much as she hated to admit it.

That was how she worked; able to remember standout things about a person in lieu to their name.

Seated in front of Amber was girl of average height and build. She looked much older than she was with captivating natural beauty. Her hair was strawberry blonde and short, swept back out of her eyes with a bright green headband. Round faced with big baby-blues, Miyami assumed there was popularity in her pocket that she used charitably. The way she held herself made her look determined and almost conceited.

"Sonia," Rei said, "but we like to call her Skip," he added as an afterthought.

"Hi," Sonia smiled timidly, her voice small and light. Miyami was shocked, the mocha skinned girl made a quick transformation in her minds eye.

_Wow_, Miyami coughed awkwardly inside, _and here I thought she'd be the boldest of them all_!

She excused her mistake when the girl beside Sonia was introduced.

Aspin Grant was tomboyish and lanky; arrayed in loose, hip-hanging blue jeans and a nice fitting aquamarine shirt. She dressed her face with a thin line of violet eyeshadow and clear lipgloss; nothing fancy. Her hair was an out of the ordinary shade of lavender, kept long and in a messy ponytail.

Aspin carried a reserved prettiness leaving a pronounced personality.

"She's captain of the Westmoor Tigers…the _girls'_ soccer team—"

"Hey, don't forget football and basketball," Aspin interjected. Her tone was sharp and level.

"Sporty Spice," Rei teased, chuckling. She swatted him on the leg and leaned back into her chair.

"You play sports?" Amber asked, nibbling her nails subconsciously. The black paint that had been brushed on was chipping, thin shaving staining her lips as she chewed out her bad habit.

"Yeah," Miyami grinned enthusiastically. She loved to talk about herself, as narcissistic as that made her sound. Living as the youngest in her family made her thirsty for attention; her older siblings always unceremoniously doting on her.

"I'm—I _was_ goalie for my school's girls' soccer team."

Aspin smiled and leaned forward.

"You any good?"

"Never let a goal in!"

"Aren't you looking for a new teammate?" A new voice questioned to Sonia's right, uninterested with the topic of choice.

"Unfortunately not anymore, position's filled." Aspin said with regret, bringing her legs to her chest and resting her chin in the crevice between them.

"Heh," Rei nodded to the boy who had asked the question, "That's Max, he's not really into sports,"

"Coulda fooled me," Miyami winked, leaning her weight on one foot.

Max sat up, his body spurting as if constantly on the go. His limbs were long and he was very feminine but in a cute way. A squirrelish smile adorned his lips comfortably and his eyes were bright in childlike fascination.

**_Gay_**, Miyami managed to keep her voice in her throat as she gazed at his oval cornflower eyes adoringly. She had a soft spot for gay men, though she wasn't certain why. They amused her with their understanding of the unspoken womanly truths that men were never to know.

Typically Californian, he had a mop of flaxen blonde hair and a carefree expression that held no tight lines or emotional strain. His movements were relaxed, contradicting his fast sentences and chirpy attitude.

"Somewhere in this school doing whatever last minute homework is Chaya; they're twins," Rei sighed, shaking his head at the thought of the absent girl.

"S'all good," Miyami said, "I'll just meet her later,"

"Actually, you'll meet her after homeroom this morning," Rei corrected, "She's in your languages class,"

"Either way,"

At the end of the table sat the last person to be introduced. Miyami frowned, squinting and taking a step in his direction. A familiar tuff of bluish-black hair stuck up untidily, his square shoulders arched and arms folded under his head. Asleep, he hadn't been involved in the former conversation.

"Little bastard," Miyami sniggered, creeping towards him. Though there was no reasoning behind it; he had slept through the music and the introductions.

Halting deviously behind him, Miyami flexed her fingers, feeling the constant coolness of her fingertips. She knew he hated cold fingers and feet, traits of which she had possessed since the womb. The boy snorted in his sleep, his breathing even.

Everyone watched in silent interest, wondering what the New Girl could possibly have on their friend.

Miyami brought her hands under the mass of thick hair, pressing them to his warm skin. Bolting upright, Tyson Kinomiya was suddenly aware of everything.

"Who dunnit?" He cried, sending the group into fits of hysterical laughter.

Twisting around to see his attacker, he felt quite sheepish staring at his younger cousin. She smirked back in triumph, placing her hands in her pockets again.

"Rough night?" She joked, cocking her head to one side and awaiting a reply.

"Possibly,"

"Did you forget anything yesterday?" Miyami bent over, her face coming close to Tyson's, their noses millimeters apart.

Max whispered for everyone to quiet down so he could listen to what was going to happen.

Miyami raised a thin eyebrow while Tyson tried to understand what she was talking about. His mind was still foggy from his ill-timed nap. Then it dawned on him and his face went pale.

"Oops," He squeaked.

He couldn't consider his cousin dangerous, because she wasn't. He learned that if it came to a physical brawl, she would lose before the match began. But she was verbally sharp and even her small temper managed to scare him.

"You two know each other?" Aspin wondered, her catlike body extending onto the table, kneeling on her chair.

"She's my cousin," Tyson murmured, still kicking himself inwardly for forgetting his promise of a personal show-around town the day before.

"So _this_ is the one who cooks?" Sonia blinked innocently.

"No, that's the other one…this is the one who wanted to kick a bouncer's ass at that nightclub in Tokyo and got in for trying."

There was a resounding '_oh_' as the others recalled Tyson animatedly telling the story. It had been quite the tale.

A warning bell rang piercingly in the hall outside of the library, signaling the students to make their way to homeroom. Miyami was pleased to have found her cousin, forgetful or not. He was in the same class as her which made things less difficult.

"Alright, Mimi, let's get this shit started,"

_This is going to be a very good day_.

♠  
_End Chapter Two_

* * *

Author's Notes: Just like I promised: FEEDBACK to my wonderful reviewers! It's nice to see all of the old faces again. 

_Zadien_ (Cokey): Ch. 1&2: Hee-hee, I bought the **Lost Prophets** CD—Start Something—for the very same reason! You'll find out how everything ties together, not to worry. I can't wait to write it all up, either, its exciting being back without writers block. I tried to stick a little familiarity into the first chapter (considering people enjoyed Rei and Miyami crashing into one another in Dancing on the Live Man's Grave)…besides, it's just hilarious to see Rei cause accidents. You are completely right about Adam Brody, by the way, he's continuously getting hotter…drool

_Wanted_ (Yoshi): Ch. 2: Ah, yes, Gems is hard to beat in terms of reviewing first…she has a sixth-sense when it comes right down to it! As I'm sure you've figured out from the above chapter, Max is included in the whole '_homosexuality_' thing. I had to disclaim it because some people are uncomfortable reading about men-dating-men or women-dating-women. I'm hoping to introduce new bands that I've recently taken to and expand the musical horizon for this story. Oooh, this is too much fun!

_Silver Suzaku_: Ch. 2: Knowing me and my updates, you'll be coming after me with a chainsaw! I'm really slow at it (no matter how many ideas I have ready) so them-there questions aren't in vain…doesn't mean I'm going to answer them though winks. Hee-hee, I enjoy keeping people in the dark about things like that, it's amusing to read the reactions.

_signourney_: Ch. 2: Yes I am back and I think I may stay this way for a while! You can't get rid of me that easily, Mwuah! Don't worry; the prologue _will_ be explained sooner or later. I have plans; evil, dastardly plans!

_KuriQuinn_ (Krys): Ch. 2: We all know that my lines are your lines, even if I have them copywritten. What do you mean 'gabbing'? I'm hurt! Even though I know that you're listening even though it doesn't look like it and I always question you about it when I'm gabbing…er…yeah! Grins about the 'not going to hurt people we love' thing, you'll have to wait and see! Remember, this is based on what happened to Efan, so bear with me on this. No worries, I'm going to continue! See, there's a chapter above this…that counts, right? But who cares about the story, I have Karl-related matters to discuss! Sees Krys attempt and escape at the random mention of her crush…Oh, you can't get away that easily! And do you want a cookie? I'm making White-Chocolate-Chip-Pecan cookies this time. I'm bored of working only with peanut butter and chocolate chips.

©: The featured song is _Backstreet's Back_ by **The Backstreet Boys** from their 1997 album Backstreet's Back.

**

* * *

I**MPORTANT** N**OTICE: If you would like to see what Miyami and the gang look/dress like during their first introductions and possibly all of their other mentioned outfits throughout the story, email me. I have coloured pictures finished and ready to send. 


	4. Forget Me Not

Author's Notes: Wow, a lot of you missed me, huh? Here's another chapter upon request. See, I can update frequently if I want to.

R&R  
Enjoy!

* * *

♠  
Chapter Three: Forget Me Not  
♠ 

His hands shook as he took the wide, office envelope from Li.

The scene around him was dismal. _Pathetic_; he hated himself for being dependant on his lost-cause lifestyle but he had a letch for the hit. In some way he was relieved to see that there were others like him; suffering from a newly common famine that swept America devastatingly.

Individuals were scattered around the underground hideaway, beckoning the same anti-reality he had just received. Li stood amongst them, the attention of the concrete Hell drawn to his presence as he readied another order.

They were all victims, isolated from an unattainable normality which they had all previously experienced. He was no different.

_To all those people doin' lines,  
__Don't do it, don't do it,  
__Inject your soul with liberty  
__It's free, it's free_

Rocking back and forth in starvation, their brows were furrowed and bodies were cold, teeth gritted tightly closed while they waited in anguish. Aches and pains craved the drug so that they may be forgotten.

They needed the fix.

Li fed another until the room increased in size as the deprived left with their artificial happiness. Contrary to popular belief, happiness could be bought and it came with a very expensive price tag.

Li was watching him.

He knew and ignored his promise. His mother would be devastated if she discovered he was reliving unbreakable and poisonous habits. Still, he didn't care; he had to escape. Reality was too painful to be left standing alone for more than five minutes in hideous memories.

_To all the kids with heroin eyes,  
__Don't do it, don't do it  
__Because it's not-not what it seems  
No, no it's not-not what it seems_

Li scrutinized him, his mouth turned upwards at the corners. He liked the newcomer and his money—especially his money. Li saw that the package appealed to the new costumer, his darkened eyes tarnished with intense reasons to want it.

Li was an agile young man and had little to offer in looks. He was violent with a short, quick temper. Those in his favor were better off. They would be able to sleep at night knowing they weren't being hunted down like mice to the vengeful cat.

As far as he knew, Li's backstreet business deals had started when his father's wealth had evaporated into mere memory. Li was thrown into a world of lies and deceit too hastily, adapting to the underground truths. There was money in the underground that few people knew how to handle correctly. He was one of a lucky dozen dealing in the Californian metropolis.

It was a rough way to make a living but Li wasn't broke yet. He knew strippers and prostitutes, giving them their midnight meal of heroin or cocaine before they went to make a quick buck.

_Salvation, salvation, salvation is free,  
__Salvation, salvation, salvation is free…_

He left the loft, squeezing through the gap in the fence where he had come in. The person who had shown him where to go had left, taking his tip and probably spending it on cigarettes or booze.

Was this all he had left?

Looking down at the envelope his face twisted into a frantic, frustrated hatred. He kicked the guardrail lining the perimeter of the subway entrance, startling passersby. The thin paper in his hand crinkled from the pressure. His fingernails were yellow from the cigarettes and his eyes were bloodshot from the high. Li was kind enough to offer a taste of what he had purchased and it was beautiful.

Disgustingly beautiful.

_To all the parents with sleepless nights,  
__Sleepless nights  
__Tie your kids up to their beds,  
__Clean their heads_

Pulling his black beanie over his ears and enclosing the drug into his dark coloured sweater he snaked through the early afternoon crowd. It was sunny and warm out, everyone was dressed in bright garments and made him stand out. He didn't like it, at least not at the moment.

He knew he looked suspicious but that didn't matter. He found his hiding place and he sat down. Hardly able to control himself, he pulled the drug from its package and rolled up his sleeve. His thin lips were dry; lips he shared with his sister. It was a recollection that nagged him, clawing at his consciousness and eating away at him callously.

His fingers were cold but he was sweating. _God, I need it now_…

_To all the kids with heroin eyes,  
__Don't do it, don't do it,  
__Because it's not-not what it seems  
__No, no it's not-not what it seems_

He saw her behind closed eyes. Innocent and pretty, a full-bodied and petite woman sharing her love generously with her son. Her disobedient, disrespectful and disgusting son. Her ugly, unwanted, depressed son who didn't want to live in this shit anymore. But he was too afraid of death to put an end to it. And he hated himself for that. He hated himself for everything…worst of all; he hated her for still loving him after she had found out the first time.

The slick, thin needle punctured is skin, injecting the chemical-drug into his veins. Immediately there was a reaction, the sudden euphoria enveloping him. He closed his eyes softly and leaned back against the side of the dumpster where he sat. The rush was divine, a light at the end of a tunnel that excited him.

Everything was perfect again except for her face.

_Salvation, salvation, salvation is free,  
__Salvation, salvation, salvation is free,_

Haunting, the image of his mother crept into his alternate world. His personal space and only escape…he writhed and thrust his body backwards, slamming his head against the hard brick to his left.

_Go away_!

Usually he could get rid of her but this time she wasn't going anywhere. Rooted in place before him, a drug induced hallucination. He cried out in aggravation, moaning and wailing deeply in his chest. It cramped up and soon he couldn't breathe. The effects were only momentary and soon everything was shifting and seemed amusing.

He began to laugh unevenly, sobbing in the chorus of hiccupped crowing.

"Go away," He coughed, "go away, go away," he repeated it until the image faded into nothing.

His cheeks were damp with tears, his mind tortured. He couldn't bear to admit it a second time to his family. Not again, not after what happened.

_Salvation, salvation, salvation is free,  
__Salvation, salvation, salvation is free_

"Please," He begged in a meager voice, holding his face in his hands, the laughter ceasing and his body shaking in time with his weeping. "Go away,"

♠  
_End Chapter Three_

* * *

  
Author's Note: Wow, talk about a dark chapter…To be honest I had no idea I would be writing this part into everything so soon! I wanted to wait but it was killing me, it just _had_ to be written. Either way, it doesn't affect anything. Hope you enjoyed! (Yes, I know, utterly confusing…again, it's meant to be that way...)

©: The featured song is _Salvation_ by **The Cranberries** from their 1996 album To the Faithful Departed (RECOMMENDED).


	5. Baby Steps

Author's Notes: Sorry about the update delay! My computer is going haywire. The internet isn't working on my account and it took some convincing for my dad to allow me onto his. Anyhow, here's the chapter and I hope it lives up to your expectations or goes beyond, which ever comes first!

R&R  
Enjoy!

* * *

♠  
Chapter Four: Baby Steps  
♠ 

Jonathan McGregor spun through the main entrance on his heel, his arms outstretched at sides and head bent. Grinning mischievously at the floor, the redhead finished his dramatic entrance by swiping a glossy red apple from a freshman girl's hands, biting into it greedily. He winked and she blushed.

It was always that way; the attention never left him, bad or good. It shrouded Jonny like a spotlight. With his striking features, musky accent and bad-boy demeanor; the suave confidence caused riots among the ladies whose lives he lived in.

However there was one woman immune to his fall-on-your-knees presence. Ms Alonzo, the Vice-Principal.

A stern faced, middle-aged shrew whose expression was permanently secured in an unattractive frown. She retracted into herself and had the look of always bending forward as if she couldn't hear what anyone was saying. Her skin was pulled too tightly across her cheeks and mouth and her hairline began just above devilish arched eyebrows. Although she stood at a harmless five-foot-three, she managed to handle a terrifying authority over those she didn't like.

Some countered her ongoing lectures with humor or butt-kissing diplomacy, yet there still remained the few who coward at the sound of her drill-sergeant voice.

_Wind me up,  
__Put me down  
__Start me off  
__And watch me go_

Ms Alonzo stood at the end of the corridor, her hands balled on her lumpy hips, eyes fixed on Jonny. Bright red lips were pressed in a line. She did not tolerate tardiness. Though Jonny was a member of student council, Ms Alonzo didn't take to him like his peers. Had she had her way, he wouldn't have made Co-President.

According to the other members he did his job with tact.

She disagreed and spurred old-world expectations that former student council affiliates conveyed during their time…almost twenty years prior to her reign of Westmoor High.

Jonny neared her casually, his face relaxed into and easy smile. Eying him in disdain, Ms Alonzo waited for him to come into earshot, though with her voice there was no need to.

_I'll be running circles around you  
sooner than you know_

"You're late _again_, Mr. McGregor," She said. Second period began and the students dispersed, a couple of John's classmates sending him encouraging waves and hoots.

"Ah, Ms Alonzo, I'm sorry," He responded coolly, taking another bite of the apple. "Can't we have a little forgiveness this time? I mean, it's not like last year when I came in time for lunch, right?"

"No exceptions and no forgiveness. This has gone on disregarded since you began attending this school. Westmoor does not tolerate juvenile behav---"

_A little off center  
__And I'm out of tune  
__Just kickin' this can along the avenue  
__But I'm alright_

Jonny's concentration was elsewhere, drawn to the petite and slender figure behind Ms Alonzo. She was eye-catching with thinned grey-blue hair, caught in two braided pigtails. They were unkempt, the shorter strands falling loosely around her baby-doll face. Unsure silver eyes scanned the hallway, glancing to and from a sheet of paper. She didn't carry any books, just a chunky binder filled with loose-leaf and a small pencil case.

Ignoring the woman in front of him, Jonny moved towards the newcomer. She was magnetic in the way she carried herself, softly nibbling on the corner of her lip.

Ms Alonzo was taken aback at John's ignorance, her wide mouth falling open as she counted in her head and tried to control her breathing. The heat rose to the back of her neck and face. She wasn't pleased and he was in trouble.

"Do you need any help?" John offered, standing close to the slim. Her eyes whipped up to meet his; an evident task due to the difference in their height. She smiled and nodded, showing him the paper she had been referring to.

"Yeah, actually," She pointed to the schedule she had been given earlier. "I'm supposed to be here, but someone told me that I was in the wrong class…_so_,"

"So that's why I'm here," Jonny said flirtatiously.

Unable to help himself, he draped an arm around her shoulders and leaned against her. He had no self-control. It just wasn't an inborn attribute. No one seemed to mind before and the young woman beside him wasn't making an attempt to leave so he enjoyed the company while he could.

"Modest much?" She giggled.

So she had noticed the unbent advances. He was pleased that she had recently started at Westmoor, without time to taste his teasing reputation.

'_Cause its easy  
__Once you know how it's done  
__You can't stop now  
__It's already begun  
__You feel it runnin' through your bones  
__And you jerk it out  
__And you jerk it out_

"What can I say? I'm enticed by pretty faces." John admitted cordially.

"I'll bet,"

"Jonathan McGregor, it is **rude** to ignore a person of authority when they are speaking to you!" Ms Alonzo yelled from her place in the middle of the hall, her feet planted flat on the floor and shoulders hunched forward.

"I think you're being yelled at," The girl chuckled, raising a thin eyebrow.

"You're down the hall and to your right," John informed, rolling his eyes at his Vice-Principal indignantly. Of all the moments she chose, now had to be one of them. He understood that he wouldn't be getting anywhere with the small girl, but it was a lovable pastime; hitting on pretty ladies allured him once he turned thirteen, maybe sooner.

_Shut up,  
__Hush your mouth,  
__Can't you hear you talk too loud?_

"Thanks stranger," fiddling with her hair, the girl untangled the pigtails and combed out the layers with small fingers, allowing it to hang loosely. Everything about her was small; her legs, her arms, her hips and chest. Jonny ate the delicious appearance selfishly. He could tell she was his type. He recognized it. They were the unusual, artistic types that most others wouldn't take to as hurriedly.

It was vastly implied that women with big chests and blond hair were the new lust-after image of 2007. The fad hadn't died since it began in 2004. Even his friends Rei Kon and Ozuma Kagawa had conformed to the media based assumption. Then again, they were weak men.

"Call me Jonny," He bit into the apple again, sucking the juice that dripped onto the skin.

"Miyami,"

_Original_, he hadn't heard a name like that before. Of course, he knew people named _Tala_ and _Brooklyn_ so 'Miyami' was that farfetched.

"See you around,"

Disappearing into the correct classroom, John found himself alone with the commanding co-head of the school. He dumped the apple into a nearby garbage can and waited for her to call him into the office. Routine doesn't die, no matter how much you will it to.

_No can't hear nothin'  
'Cause I got my head up in the clouds… _

♠

Miyami was grateful for the break when lunchtime finally came. Her stomach was starting to make frustrated noises. Throughout the past four classes she had met interesting people but the easygoing acquaintance of Rei and Amber helped during the morning.

Whilst in her Languages course she had been greeted with an onslaught of questions—all in French in keeping with the curriculum—and had been repeatedly re-seated according to her level of comprehension. After a heated discussion with her teacher, he placed her in the back beside another semi-fluent pupil.

Already familiar with the sun bleached locks and doe-eyed innocence from the library, Miyami recognized Chaya Tate without hesitation. She and Max shared the candy-coated countenance and lofty height. Differences lied within their conflicting personalities. Chaya was very direct and chose her words carefully. Her tones were long and even, articulating every word and making it sound important.

Miyami also learned that she fought for her opinions, right or wrong. Chaya was fuller than her brother with a Rock-Goth image. Definitely not a teacher's pet.

"You ready?" Rei asked, startling Miyami slightly as he hovered over her. She shoved the remainder of her new books onto the top shelf of her locker and slammed the door closed, leaving him to deal with the lock.

"Why do I have the feeling this isn't going to be a Wonder Land experience?" Miyami sniggered, moving in step beside him.

"It's a jungle in there. Everyone sits in their cliques…well, almost everyone. The seniors are actually more approachable."

Scampering footsteps pattered after them as someone neared.

"Oi! You don't listen very well," Amber decided, holding her chest and catching her breath. She wasn't much of a runner, better on skates than on foot. Miyami had been told that she liked hockey and was rather good at it but couldn't muster the strength to bother with school teams.

"Sorry," Miyami said making room for Amber to squeeze between her and Rei.

"It's okay, I'm only teasing,"

"Her favorite hobby," Rei teased, mussing up his friend's hair.

"Oi, watch it!"

The Chinese boy took Amber under his arm and pressed her to his side, laughing. The group entered the cafeteria, lining themselves up along the side wall and grabbing trays. Someone waved to Rei from the other side of the wide, rectangular room. Miyami had to squint to see who it was.

A lanky Italian boy with tidy form and light eyes smiled toward them. Enrique Giancarlo. He was in her Math AP class and sat in the center of four or five girls, sharing satire innuendo behind the teacher's back.

Rei had warned Miyami about him but she had managed to escape the hormones and had instead met his less driven side—which she didn't mind. It was nice to know that America wasn't as sexually animated as the television shows exaggerated it to be. Enrique was a decent and wealthy young man of eighteen in Grade Twelve, the grade above hers.

It wasn't hard to separate the seniors from the sophomores or freshmen grades. They spoke to just about anyone; all social butterflies, fluttering between the diverse groups amongst their classes. But there were still the noticeable severances.

Students sat in lengthy benches along brown plastic-covered tables. An elevated table near the back was reserved for teachers and support-personnel. The room itself was drawn out and grey with pillars protruding from the floor near the center. Against the perimeter was the buffet and salad bars, the hot meals served by the aging and grumpy kitchen staff.

Gathering a few edible-looking items onto her tray, Miyami followed Amber to the open doors leading outside. It was hot where they sat, the sun directly above them. Amber had chosen her favorite picnic table near the cement fountain. They laid their food out on the table, neither of them eager to try the meal first.

Rei had left them to sit with Enrique and a few other jocks in the Westmoor Boys Tackle Football Team (WBTFT).

Aspin and Tyson joined the girls soon after, talking actively about their first week; informing Miyami of everything she had _unfortunately_ missed. The discussion lasted five minutes before being interrupted by a disheveled and ill-tempered Chaya.

"I can't believe this!" She cried.

"What?" Everyone asked in unison, Aspin speaking through a forkful of salad. It was the only safe thing on the menu.

"Alonzo bawled Max out again! Stupid homo-fucking-phobe!"

The group relaxed, easing into the blonde's lucid overreaction. Miyami still sat upright, her muscles tensed and listening acutely. She wasn't accustomed to the other's regular clamor and felt obligated to pay attention.

"Really Chaya, it's nothing, I'm fine," Max stuttered, trying to calm his fuming twin. He sat near the end of the bench, scrunching gangly limbs under the table.

"I don't care!" Chaya declared, outraged. "I still think this is completely unfair!" Again her words were hard and of substance.

"Calm yourself, child," Someone said. The voice was new and Miyami had to crane her neck to see who it was. A boy of reasonable height leaned against the table. He had a nice look though his clothes were a little mismatched. Spiky ashen and red hair blew into his eyes as he watched his classmates eat.

It was clear that he didn't spend a lot of his time in that group and was merely being social. Something drew him to the table and the disappointment in his movements said it wasn't there.

"Shut it Ozuma," Chaya barked, sighing heavily and digging into her food. She spat it out almost immediately and pushed the tray away from her.

"You never learn," Aspin chuckled.

Miyami nibbled the vegetarian sandwich she had chosen, finding that it didn't taste bad, as grotesque as it appeared.

Suddenly there was a great shift in the conversation and everyone's focus fell on someone irresistibly familiar.

'_Cause it's easy once you know how it's done  
__You can't stop now, it's already begun  
__You feel it running through your bones  
__And you jerk it out_

Jonny McGregor shone as he neared them, a natural skip in his step. He smiled when he saw Miyami and she grinned back, unsure of what else to do. She liked him physically. His accent made her swoon and she had had a strenuous time keeping herself together when they met earlier in the day.

It wasn't unlike her to infatuate easily, attracted to most boyish young men with a sense of childhood continuity. This also posed problems when she couldn't concentrate on anything or anyone but the flame. She thought she had prepared herself for the blood-rushing amount of American cuties but she plainly misjudged.

The redhead carried a thick stack of flyers, bold print and amusing pictures splattered across the front. He dumped a few of them on the table before saying anything.

"Alright, party this weekend at Enrique's. Be there,"

Ozuma seemed more comfortable when John emerged from the lunch-going crowd, closer to the Co-Pres than the comrades around the picnic bench.

'_Cause it's easy once you know how it's done  
__You can't stop now  
__It's already begun  
__You feel it runnin' through your bones  
__And you jerk it out_

Tyson turned to face Jonny, eyebrows raised.

"This weekend," He repeated, mentally scanning his usually empty schedule. Miyami pounced, taking the bait.

"I know you're free because you promised to keep it open…or did you forget that too?"

The offhand mention of his absent-mindedness made Tyson squirm. He shrugged and told John he'd be there if he wasn't busy. Max smiled and accepted the informal invitation with delight and Chaya followed suit, mentioning that she had to keep an eye on her brother.

"You coming too?" John inquired, staring sincerely at Miyami who shifted in her seat.

"If you want me there," She returned, trying to control the blush she felt warming her cheeks and ears. He flashed a toothy smile and ran a hand through his hair. He was aware of every movement he made, each done purposely to appeal to the masses. It was working and the world acted as if he was the center of it. Miyami was in awe.

"It would definitely brighten things up," He said.

Amber and Aspin watched in amusement, both desensitized to his constant advances. They shot each other wide grins and glanced back.

"Then it looks like my Saturday is booked," Miyami giggled and leaned on her elbows.

"Great, see you at eight," John jumped up from his seat on Max's lap where he had flung himself after producing the flyers. He gave Max a sloppy kiss on the cheek and waved to the others, his eyes lingering on Miyami.

'_Cause it's easy once you know how it's done  
__You can't stop now  
__It's already begun  
__You feel it runnin' through your bones  
__And you jerk it out  
__And you jerk it out_

"Nice," Tyson cooed, batting his eyelashes mockingly. Miyami leaned across the table and swatted him, threatening to mention a few of his indiscreet palling-around mishaps.

Things were getting better every time she looked around.

_Oh baby don't you know  
__You really gotta jerk it out_

♠  
_End Chapter Four_

Author's Notes: Again, I'm sorry for the long wait. I'm not as proud of this chapter as I am the others but, hey, I tried. Tell me what you think! And don't be surprised if I revamp this particular installment before continuing. Ciao!

©: The featured song is _Jerk it Out_ by **The Caesars** from their 2003 album 39 Minutes of Bliss (In An Otherwise Meaningless World).


End file.
